


Goldilocks

by HQK



Series: Country Roads Take Me Home [2]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: And get a little soul searchy cause he's so perfect and big, Bathtub Sex, Clyde being the sweetest of boys, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Size Kink, my first fluff, you help him unwind in the tub after a long day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQK/pseuds/HQK
Summary: Clyde Logan made you feel small in the most beautiful of ways.Not like most people did when they spoke over you or made stupid backhanded comments that you were meant to laugh at so as not to seem rude or when they stared right through you that way people do when they don’t give two shits what you’re saying and don’t care enough to pretend.No, Clyde Logan made you small in a way you’ve never been.---------------Or, you've finally found your proper place in the arms of our favorite country boy, and you're never letting him go.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader
Series: Country Roads Take Me Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938049
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Goldilocks

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely Cowboy

You never thought too much about how small your apartment was. For so long, it had just been you on your own, so the minuscule space between the island and the stove, the low ceilings and narrow hallways hadn’t been a bother. 

But Clyde made it feel like a tin can left in the freezer overnight and ready to burst, dying to expand. 

To be fair, Clyde Logan made everything seem small with his hand like a boxing glove—minus all the hard fists and swung punches—and his shoulders hunching in every doorway as if the world was never able to fully accommodate him. You thought maybe that was why he smiled the way he did, sort of apologetic even at the happiest of moments, like he was sorry for never quite fitting anywhere. 

Clyde made you feel small too though you were always afraid to tell him that. Knew he’d take it the wrong way and smile that sad, sorry smile and try to fade off into the corners of your bedroom, try not to ‘crowd ya’ as he’d say. So you never said it, but you thought about it often. 

Clyde Logan made you feel small in the most beautiful of ways. 

Not like most people did when they spoke over you or made stupid backhanded comments that you were meant to laugh at so as not to seem rude or when they stared right through you that way people do when they don’t give two shits what you’re saying and don’t care enough to pretend. 

No, Clyde Logan made you small in a way you’ve never been. 

He made you feel comfortable everywhere.

Sometimes, when you’d go to visit him at the bar, he’d place his hand on the small of your back, let it run feather light around your hip and rest there in the curve of the bone. And suddenly, you didn’t feel so out of place, like you were taking up too much space that wasn't meant for you. Once, you were helping him clean up after a long shift and knocked a whole tray of glasses straight off the bar top, sent the shattered bits skittering all across the floor, but there was no burn of embarrassment. Just, “it’s no problem, darlin’,” and a soft press of his lips to your head. 

Sometimes it was overwhelming, the sense Clyde gave you, finally in your proper place. 

And in his arms, when he wasn’t too nervous to hold you in ‘em—too afraid he might crush ya—you felt small and perfect and not at risk of breaking anything precious. 

It pervaded every inch of you, and occasionally you felt just how small the apartment really is. Now that you were used to the puzzle piece fit of Clyde Logan, the cold tile floors and microcosmic rooms felt cramped in a way they never did before. 

You told him a while back you’d start looking for a new place, somewhere you both can fit. 

But for now, you were still in the little shoebox you’ve called home for so long and you could hear the key turning in the front door’s lock, big, heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Clyde stopped by most nights after work these days, slept in your bed most nights too. Pounded you into the mattress and made you cry for him or let you ride his cock, thighs burning to take him deeper and watch how his pretty eyes roll back when he cums. 

And as delicious as it sounded, as much as it sent sparks off between your thighs, you had something softer planned for him. Something lovely for this man who came the closest to the human personification of southern sweet tea you’d ever known. Refreshing like the little sprigs of cut mint he kept in mason jars to chew on sometimes, cool like the feel of his prosthetic on your bare skin, soothing like his fingers scratching gently at your scalp and the way the hair on his chin grates your shoulder when he rubs against you in his sleep. 

“Darlin’?” his voice echoed down the hall. 

“In here!”

You had the bathtub all filled up with near scalding water and fragrant bubbles floating like clouds along the top. The room was hazy with steam that settled in little droplets on your skin. The top of your breasts peeked out from the water and Clyde’s eyes fell immediately to the shape of you under the surface. 

He had just his head poking through the crack in the door and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks whenever he got shy like this. Like he hadn’t seen you bare a thousand times before. 

“Oh, uh, m’sorry didn’t mean ta—”

You cut off his stammering, “Feel like joining me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll fit, sweetheart,” he said, already tugging off his t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the tub. 

He always called you so many little pet names. Normally you’d hate that, but it melts you a bit when they come from his mouth. 

“You’ll fit,” you said, drifting over to help him take off his prosthetic and lay it gently on the vanity. “You always fit.” 

And he did, because it’s you and him so there’s never a place the two of you don’t. 

His jeans and socks and underwear—that you bought him because you swore they made his ass look so good in those bootcut jeans he wore—lay in a little pile by your sink and Clyde’s chest is finally warm and solid against your back. 

Just where he’s meant to be. 

His legs were bent up around you, knees poking out of the water, and you brought one of his massive calves to rest between yours, kneading gently at the taut muscles. 

“You don’t have ta do that, darlin’,” Clyde said, and groaned when you unwound a particularly tight knot. 

“Shh,” you hushed, “tell me about work.”

He hummed as you reached for the soap, lathering your hands up and working it all down his legs. 

“It weren’t too excitin’, I did have ta kick out one fella—real piece a work too.”

Clyde went on and you listened, almost drowning in the way the words left his mouth and shifting around to sit chest to chest in his lap so you could work on his shoulders. His cock was half hard and twitched against you, but he lay still, hand loosely on your hip and head tilted back while he talked.

You loved the feeling of the warm, smooth planes of his skin under your hands and raked your nails across his chest, pausing to thumb at his nipples and chuckling at the catch in his voice. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your tryin’ ta distract me darlin’,” Clyde mumbled, sitting up so you were pressed tight against him and laying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I would never, just trying to help you unwind.”

You pulled him up by the hair to finally fit your lips to his, loving the glide of him, the scratch of his beard. Clyde’s arms sloshed the water over the sides as they wound up and around your middle. You hummed when he didn’t hesitate to touch you with both. Sometimes he got a little wary about touchin you without his prosthetic, but it seemed you’d done your job well. He felt loose, all the tension released as he fell perfectly into you. 

Puzzle pieces, just the right size. 

Edges and curves finding their way into place like how the sea meets the shore: inevitably. 

You felt the sharp expanse of his ribs when your hand brushed his achingly hard length under the water. He was nothing if not proportional, your Clyde, wide and long in every aspect of himself, so that your hand barely wrapped all the way around him. 

He moaned in earnest now, resting his forehead to yours, “Darlin’, you don’t gotta do that.” 

You hushed him, moving your wrist in long, languid strokes. Listened to the breathy little noises he made and needed every one of them. 

“There’s nothing in the world I want to do more,” you said, twisting your hand just how you knew he liked it and earning yourself another gasp. “Let me make you feel good, Clyde.” 

He nodded breathlessly, tilting his head back so you could suck and nip little marks all over his collar. 

The first time the two of you had ever got a little hot and heavy, you’d accidentally left behind more than a little evidence—which you're sure Clyde got more than a tad of flack for from the guys at the bar—but you knew he loved it. Loved looking at them, loved remembering how they got there and loved the reminder of where and to whom he belonged. 

“Ya always make me feel good—” he trailed off when you bit just over his pulse, licking a hot stripe up his neck. 

Clyde bucked his hips up as the pace of your hand on his cock increased, and he mumbled a nearly incoherent apology when more water spilled out onto the bathroom floor. 

But the mess didn’t matter when his head fell back, resting in your hands and giving you a lovely view of his freckled chest, pink with the steam and all the pleasure you were pulling from him. You wanted to kiss every mole, connect them all like constellations in the clear West Virginia night sky. 

“Oh honey, you’re so pretty,” you hummed, taking in the scene before you. 

Clyde choked back a sob, pulling his pretty plush lips between crooked teeth. You felt his cock twitch in your hand and knew he was getting close. Couldn’t wait to see his face screw up with the shock of it, couldn’t wait for his arms to lock you in like he was afraid you’d stop and leave him cold. 

“Sweetheart, m’ not gonna last much longer,” he groaned and dropped his hand from your hip between your legs, thumb rubbing perfect circles around your clit. “Let me help ya.” 

You grabbed at his wrist, “Clyde, you don’t have to—”

He knocked your hand away and surged forward, bending down to wrap his gorgeous lips around one of your nipples, laving his tongue over the stiff peak and pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Let me make ya feel good,” he said, throwing the words back at you. 

The smug little grin on his face alone nearly sent you over the edge. 

How could you ever deny him that?

So you let him continue, loving the feel of his rough, calloused fingers touching you in all the right places, with just the right rhythm and stroked his leaking cock to match. His eyes stayed on your face the whole time, never glancing away, never shy or embarrassed. 

You couldn’t have looked away if you’d wanted to. 

This is where you belonged, you thought. This is where you fit. Not too big or too much, but goldilocks perfect under his gaze. 

And then his face was scrunching up—just like you knew it would—and showered him with praise as he painted your stomach with white ropes of hot release, fingers never letting up their frantic circles until you were throwing your head back and gasping with the white sting of your climax. 

After a few moments, you released his softening length and collapsed into his solid chest, reveling in the way he locked you in his embrace. 

Later, you’d make the two of you a warm drink, and let him rest his head on your breasts while you stroked his hair and listened to his breathing even out. Later you’d fuck him properly in your bed where his feet always hung off the edge, ride him so he could sit back and rest his hand on your hip and watch you take all of him, despite the size.

Because Clyde and you just fit together like that, without question, as natural as anything. 

Just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading y'all, come check me out on tumblr @star-killer-md for more of my writing or to submit requests!


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